


Locker 747

by sunflower_crown



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_crown/pseuds/sunflower_crown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Quinx mess up, Haise gets unpaid overtime, and memories are drug up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locker 747

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely husbando M's bday~

Haise rested his head in his hands. It had been an excruciatingly long and tiring day. As usual, the Quinx had been more than a handful. It had started out as a completely normal day. Then, Urie had attempted to take their current investigation into his own hands. He had been carelessly ambitious (shocker!) and had gotten himself into trouble. When the rest of the squad showed up, Shirazu got in his face, Mustuki stood by helplessly, and Saiko was nowhere to be found. The ghoul managed to get away and the whole operation fell apart. HQ had gotten furious and, long story short, Haise was now stuck with a little manual labor.

Namely, storage cleaning.

Looking at his watch, he noticed it was already past eight PM. He yawned and stretched, feeling each individual vertebrae pop in his stiff back. It was getting late, but he knew that he couldn't leave until he was completely finished. Luckily, he only had one room left. As he unlocked the door, he read the placard hanging next to it:

"MIA Storage"

As an investigator, although Haise had heard about it, he had never actually set foot in there. It was a special storage unit which contained the belongings of investigators who had gone MIA. Although it was difficult to hold hope that these people would be found, the CCG kept their belongings for a few years, just in case.

Haise's job was to go through the lists of names, and dispose of the belongings of those whose time had expired. It wasn't a difficult job, but one he was still reluctant to do. Cleaning the room felt like giving up hope on their return, and his heart ached at the thought. Nevertheless, this room was constantly filling up and they could really use the extra space.

He just tried to not dwell on it too much.

 

* * *

 

Haise was almost finished when he glanced at his watch again. This room had taken much more time than he originally thought, as it was already long past midnight. Yawning and taking off his glasses to rub his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that night, Haise looked up the location of the last locker, number 747. He shuffled drowsily to the locker, punched in the four-digit code, and pulled open the squeaky door.

His eyes widened when he saw the contents of the locker. Reaching forward, he carefully brought the two objects into the light. One was a slim iPod with a slightly cracked screen, and the other a pair of orange, well-worn headphones. Pressing the power button, Haise was surprised to find that the iPod still had a charge. Searching the device, he found it to be almost empty. Except for one thing.

A single playlist, titled "Kaneki."

Haise dropped the objects as he staggered back into the locker, clutching his head. For a moment, all his senses shut off and all he knew was the overwhelming static in his head. Violent sounds thrashed through his head as he curled in on himself. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that. It could have been a few seconds or an eternity, he had no idea. As the initial shock passed and his vision cleared, he found himself to be huddled in the corner of the room, far away from the locker. When his breathing finally slowed to something that resembled normal and he had regained some sense, Haise scrambled across the floor back to the locker. He had only two thoughts on his scrambled mind:

_Who were they and how did they know?_

Haise fell to his knees on the cold concrete floor of the storage room. His hands shook violently as he reached for his clipboard, flipping frantically to the last page to read the very last name.

Written there, in his own clean handwriting, was the name "Nagachika Hideyoshi."

Haise squinted in confusion, flipping through the pages, because he must have been mistaken. This wasn't the right name. It couldn’t have been. He had absolutely no clue who this person was. Something wasn't right.

Soon, the lines on the page started to blur together. He quickly and mechanically took his glasses off to clean them, but he froze as two small water droplets splattered on the page.

His surroundings suddenly changed. He was a child, under a blanket fort late at night, and together they whispered quietly and read by flashlight. Then, at a classroom, loud chatter surrounded them as he laughed carelessly for the first time in a long while. Then finally, he was somewhere warm and inviting, and the delicious smell of burgers filled the air. Haise never remembered those things appealing to him, but for some reason, the smell made him feel at home.

Haise felt a soft laugh bubble up from his chest, and he looked up to the bright-haired, faceless boy across from him. He tried to conjure the figure’s face, but it was just another blank spot in his mind, mixed in with all the other holes there. The faceless boy was there in all the images, and you couldn’t help but think he belonged there.

Silent, hot tears began to spill down Haise’s face. He wiped at them frantically as a wave of confusion swept through him. He was sure he had never met this boy, but somehow Haise had never felt more at home than in that moment. A familiar warmth had swept through him and his heart had ached for something he never knew he needed.

Haise sat on the cold concrete floor, collecting himself. When his eyes were dry and his heart was somewhat pieced back together, he moved to stand up. His hand brushed something cold and metal and glanced down at it. He had completely forgotten about the iPod when he had dropped it. It had landed face-first, and Haise was sure that the screen must have been completely shattered by the fall. He reached over to pick up the device as he put on his glasses. When things came into focus, he squinted in confusion when he noticed something on the back of the device.

Inspecting the back, he saw that it had been written on in thick, black sharpie. The handwriting was bold and sloppy, as if it was written by someone who was too busy living life to work on their penmanship. But the handwriting itself wasn’t what caught his attention the most. It was the seven words scrawled there in the dark ink.

 

_“To my best friend: I love you”_


End file.
